


some melodious sonnet

by sunnydaisy



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnydaisy/pseuds/sunnydaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a bottle of expensive champagne with a red ribbon tied around the neck in his hand and when Klaus holds it out to her, Caroline stutters to a stop. /or, the Grill throws a Christmas party and things kind of fall apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some melodious sonnet

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: TVD belongs to JP and the CW. Title is from "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." (I'm particularly fond of the Sufjan Stevens version because I'm a sucker for acoustic.)
> 
> A/N: There's a bottle of expensive champagne with a red ribbon tied around the neck in his hand and when Klaus holds it out to her, Caroline stutters to a stop. /or, the Grill throws a Christmas party and things kind of fall apart.
> 
> So this started out as just a fairly light Christmas one-shot. Somewhere along the way it became less light, but I do hope you enjoy it all the same. Note that this is disregarding 'My Brother's Keeper' completely. So there's that. (No spoilers for that episode either.)

**some melodious sonnet**

 

Caroline tells Matt to nix the mistletoe this year.

 

"Did you know that _bugs_ live in it?" she wants to know, wrinkling her nose. "And it's poisonous, so I'm thinking no. Better safe than sorry because I don't want to be washing creepy crawlies out of my hair for days, thanks." She gives an exaggerated shudder and tosses the offending shrub in the garbage can by the bar.

 

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly at her and when his back is turned, her cheerful smile slips a little. Yeah, so maybe mistletoe is poisonous, and maybe bugs really do live in it—and that had seriously grossed her out when Bonnie mentioned it last year—but neither of those things sparked her sudden and complete aversion.

 

Caroline doesn't want to get caught underneath it.

 

Because come _on_. It's like the most well-known holiday chick-flick trope ever: maneuver your estranged boyfriend underneath the door frame with a piece of leafy green mistletoe tied to the top, kiss, make up and live happily ever after. She's pretty sure every Christmas-themed rom-com ever has used that stupid move and Caroline Forbes is not that obvious, thank you very much.

 

Besides, she can't get it out of her mind that Tyler might end up under the stupid plant with Hayley and be obligated—by _Christmas tradition_ —to kiss her. And that is so not happening on Caroline's watch. They're _fighting_ , not broken up.

 

Plus, there's the whole Klaus thing thrown in there too, but she ignores that angle because as if, he wishes, etcetera; so yeah, no mistletoe this Christmas. Besides, Caroline figures Elena would back her up on this one, all things considered. Her hands itching for something to do, she grabs a nearby box and starts untangling the white tree lights.

 

"Got a date this year?" she asks Matt brightly, tugging knots loose from the plastic cords. He pulls out the Mystic Grill's tree-topper, a sparkling gold star that sheds glitter onto his palms as he inspects it.

 

"Uh, yeah actually," he answers slowly and her ears prick up interestedly. "I'm taking April."

 

Caroline drops part of the bundle of lights. "Isn't she a little…young for you?" she says as neutrally and carefully as possible. "I mean, she's a sweet girl but didn't—didn't Elena use to _baby-sit_ her?"

 

Matt shrugs but the tops of his cheeks turn slightly red. "Just as friends, Caroline. It's the holidays, and she doesn't have anyone and I…" he trails off and shrugs again. "I can relate."

 

Well, now she feels bad and has no idea what to say. "Oh," she offers lamely. "That makes sense." And it does, so she feels like a giant ass and changes the subject super quickly.

 

"What time is Elena coming to help set up?"

 

Matt glances over at the clock on the wall. "She's late, actually. She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago." He holds out the box of ornaments to her and gestures to the still entirely knotted web of lights in her hands. "Trade?"

 

"God, yes," Caroline grumbles, and as she starts to meticulously drape bells and flashy red and green balls onto the tree branches, she says softly, "Tyler was really angry with me last week." She pauses then says, voice dropping even lower, "I think he's still really angry with me, actually."

 

Matt is quiet and his shoulders tense for just a second before they relax again. "Just give it time," he says finally, fiddling with the lights awkwardly. "I dunno, Care—just let it be for a little bit."

 

She _knows_ that, has been telling herself that for a week, but she can't shake the feeling that this fake break-up is the beginning of something a little more real—can't help but think that maybe it wouldn't be just Christmas tradition propelling Tyler under the mistletoe.

.

.

.

It starts snowing at two o'clock in the morning and because she's a neurotic perfectionist who's rereading her history paper for the fifth time, Caroline is awake to see it. The soft white glows in the dim light of her desk lamp and she presses her nose to the cold glass of her window, ignoring the stab that comes when she notices her breath doesn't make the pane fog up anymore.

 

Her neighbors already have their lights and yard decorations up, and the snow is starting to gather on the blow-up reindeer and Santa that are tethered to their sprinklers. Making the executive decision that she'll check her paper again in the morning, Caroline pulls an old sweatshirt over her head, tugs on a pair of fuzzy pink socks and heads for her roof.

 

It's totally cheesy, in a _Dawson's Creek_ sort of way, how often she's ended up on the top of her house the last few weeks. It's just so quiet and so _away_ from everything that she can escape the constant whirring of her own brain. Her mind can wander up here—she can daydream about the two point five kids and golden retriever she was supposed to have instead of calculating just how long she can manage to live in one place before people start to notice she isn't getting any older.

 

"Way to be morbid, Forbes," she scolds herself as she clears the already caking snow off of a small patch of shingles and settles in. The flakes dust her face and she pretends she can feel the sting of cold; she even shivers for emphasis.

 

It's pitch black and the clouds currently spitting out winter weather block the night sky, but she pretends the Christmas lights in the neighborhood are stars and counts them instead.

.

.

. 

Caroline is on a distract-Elena-from-her-own-life mission and she takes that shit _seriously_. Plus there's the added bonus that she gets to not think about her own in the process.

 

"Okay, are we thinking this?" Elena holds up a low-cut, lacy red dress that Caroline vaguely remembers helping her pick it out before their lives became the stuff of insane asylums and bad dreams. "Or that?" She points to an oversized sweater embroidered with reindeer and brightly wrapped presents under a fuzzy tree.

 

"Slutty Santa or Tacky Christmas?" Caroline muses slyly, sneaking a smile up at her friend. Elena offers a weak half-smile back and Caroline can't remember the last time she saw Elena without her forehead crinkled into a worried frown.

 

"Well," she says when Elena doesn't answer, picking the sweater up off the bed, "I'm opting for tacky myself." She holds Elena's sweater up to herself and wanders to the mirror. "My sweater's bad, too. Glittery. Lots of bells." She glances over her shoulder and grins at Elena. "Homemade."

 

"Oh no," Elena says with a small laugh, and takes the sweater from her. "How can I compete with that?"

 

"You can't," Caroline sings out breezily. "Slutty Santa it is. Want to borrow my green and red tights?"

 

The smile that has been dancing at the corners of Elena's mouth starts to break through. "You would have green and red tights, Care. Let me guess—striped?"

 

"As if," Caroline sniffs with exaggerated offense, rolling her eyes dramatically as she collapses back onto Elena's bed and folds her hands across her stomach. "Argyle. Face it, Gilbert. No one can beat my Christmas spirit so don't even try. I'm basically Buddy the Elf."

 

"Singing loudly for all to hear," Elena says and Caroline swears she hears a giggle in her friend's voice.

 

 _Mission accomplished_ , she thinks with satisfaction.

.

.

. 

The Grill is only slightly more crowded than usual but the blinking lights hanging from every elevated surface in the place make the room seem much smaller. She had commented to Matt that they should stick with the lights after the holidays—"It could be one of those funky small town things tourists love," she had insisted enthusiastically, but he had laughed off her totally serious decorating opinion. _No taste._

 

"Bonnie!" Caroline squeals when she spies a multitude of tiny cups with swirling red and white alcohol inside. "You made candy cane shots!"

 

Bonnie shrugs and offers her one. "There's only so much eggnog I can take," she says and Caroline nods in fervent agreement before she takes it.

 

The peppermint schnapps tickles at the back of Caroline's throat and Bonnie asks when she lowers the paper cup, "How're you doing, Care?" Her friend casts a pointed glance over one shoulder to where Tyler is sitting in deep conversation with Hayley—who, by the way, Caroline notes half-pettily, half-sympathetically, is wearing _plaid_. But her sympathy ebbs when Tyler leans in to listen to whatever pearls of wisdom she's just so sure Hayley's espousing— _okay, Forbes_ , she thinks sternly. _Now you're just being rude._

 

(Say what you want, but Caroline Forbes took _Mean Girls_ to heart.)

 

In answer to Bonnie, she reaches for another drink. "I'm absolutely, one hundred percent fine," Caroline assures her before downing it in one go.

 

One of Bonnie's eyebrows arches at her. "Yeah," she says dubiously, "Sure you are."

 

But before Caroline can protest further, Bonnie spots Professor Shane and zips away, taking her candy cane shots with her.

 

"Well that didn't take long," an accented voice drawls behind her and Caroline stiffens, her fingers tightening around the flimsy paper cup.

 

"I am not nearly drunk enough for this," she says to the air in front of her before turning; and yep, it's freaking Klaus with his horribly annoying smirk that has been alarmingly less annoying lately. "What didn't take long? The amount of time it took for you to find me in a crowd? Stalker much?"

 

One of his eyebrows quirks and he looks way too amused at her totally sincere sass and dislike. He nods towards where she had just been staring—where Tyler and Hayley are sitting, way too close together. Something stabs at her but she refuses to let it show on her face.

 

"Whatever," Caroline mumbles irritably, crossing her arms and deliberately turning her head away from Tyler and Hayley's table. "What are you doing here?" She narrows her eyes at him. "Pretty sure you weren't invited."

 

Her obvious disdain seems to roll right off Klaus— _centuries of practice_ , she thinks viciously—and he says easily, "No invitation required, sweetheart. Would you like your present?"

 

" 'M not your sweetheart," she says automatically, then processes what he just said. "Wait, what? No. _No_. I don't want anything from you—no bracelets, no dresses, no—"

 

There's a bottle of expensive champagne with a red ribbon tied around the neck in his hand and when Klaus holds it out, Caroline stutters to a stop. She eyes it like it's a snake about to bite her, but there's a sour taste in her mouth leftover from seeing Hayley all in Tyler's space; it propels her into taking the heavy bottle from him. She uncorks it and swigs a long sip, fully aware of Klaus's eyes on her.

 

"I like this," he comments, reaching a finger out to touch her two braids. She had plaited red and green ribbons into the strands and she forgets to flinch away when he rubs the ends between two fingers. Several beats too late, she smacks his hand away and arranges her face into what she hopes is a snobby expression. But he just looks amused and her delayed reaction only serves to piss her off.

 

"Whatever," Caroline says again, taking another swallow of champagne. Her head's buzzing a little bit and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Stefan walk over to where Elena is sitting next to Damon. "You should probably go. Since you're, you know, not actually welcome," she tells Klaus—and by probably, she means definitely—but Damon is smirking and Stefan is snarling at him, so she doesn't put all the vitriol that she actually feels into it.

 

Elena is saying something about choices and how she's _so confused_ and Stefan seriously looks like he wants to punch something—Caroline's assuming Damon's face is his number one target, and while she herself wouldn't mind that in the slightest, she knows Elena probably would. So she marches straight into the middle of their isosceles and grabs Stefan's arm.

 

"Could I talk to you for just a tiny second?" she asks sweetly, but before he can answer, she's pulling him away to the bar. Once they're fully out of earshot she thrusts Klaus's champagne into Stefan's hands. "Are you completely insane, Stefan? What are you _doing_?"

 

Stefan is doing Damon's crazy eye thing and he says urgently, "Caroline, you don't understand—"

 

She cuts him off by taking his face in her hands, then dropping them to his shoulders. "Okay, except I do, actually. I understand that you broke up with Elena, not the other way around; and that beating Damon within an inch of his un-life—while incredibly satisfying to more than just you, trust—is so not the way to go about this one."

 

"I'd listen to her, mate," Klaus says easily from over her shoulder and Caroline groans, because _seriously_?

 

"Why are you still here?" she demands; but before he can answer, she holds her hand up to silence him. "Don't actually care." She turns her attention back to Stefan. "Look, I'm totally team you on this, okay? So you should listen to me." She can practically feel Klaus's smirk as she echoes him. "Want me to walk you home?" Caroline nudges his foot with her own. "You can wear my letterman jacket and I'll carry your books, what do you say?" It takes her most charming Miss Mystic Falls smile, but the icily blank stare cracks slightly and he follows her out of the Grill.

 

She doesn't look back at Klaus.

.

.

.

"It's Damon, Caroline," Stefan insists for the third time as they near the boarding house. "He's gotten in her head somehow and it's like she doesn't even mind!"

 

"Sounds typical," Caroline mutters darkly before quickly qualifying, "Of Damon, I mean." But Stefan doesn't even seem to hear her.

 

"If she knew the things he's done," he says, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "If she knew—"

 

They've reached the Salvatores' front porch when Caroline interrupts quietly, "Stefan. You just have to give her time." Her hand goes to rest on his arm. "We've all got plenty of it, right?"

 

Stefan looks at her like he's just remembered that she's there. "Caroline," he says slowly, blinking as though he's just come out of a deep sleep. "You need to be careful with this whole Klaus thing. He takes more than you're willing to give." His eyes are dark and hooded. "Trust me."

 

She can't help it when her spine stiffens slightly. "I know," she says, a little more defensively than she means to. "I _know_ , Stefan. But we're all working towards the same endgame, right?" She bites her lip. "Would you take it? The cure?"

 

Stefan sinks down to the steps of the front porch and she follows suit. "And grow old?" he asks, his chin dropping into his palm. "Have children, and grandchildren, and an end date? Yeah, I'd take it." He cocks his head towards her. "Would you?"

 

Caroline is quiet for a moment. "I think," she says slowly, "that immortality would be exhausting. People aren't supposed to live forever."

 

"That's the thing," Stefan says dejectedly. "We aren't people, are we?"

 

She remembers Chris, the hybrid who was Tyler's friend—and whose death warrant she had practically signed herself. "Maybe that's our punishment," she says unhappily, laying her head on Stefan's shoulder and exhaling. "To live forever with what we've done."

.

.

.

The wind has picked up when Caroline makes her way back to the Grill, and even though she can't feel it, her skin remembers the cutting chill. She pulls her coat tighter around her and rushes into the Grill to find Elena and Bonnie. _Maybe this whole night can be salvaged_ , she thinks hopefully. Maybe some candy cane shots and some _It's a Wonderful Life_ on Elena's couch with her two best friends can make this horrible throb in her chest go away. Maybe. Probably.

 

"Matt," she calls out, slipping through the crowd that has grown since she left. "Matt, where are Bonnie and Elena?"

 

He shakes his head. "Haven't seen Bonnie, but Elena left with Damon right after you and Stefan."

 

Oh _fantastic_. She shakes her head and starts to scan the room for Bonnie when she sees mistletoe hanging from one of the door frames on the other side of the Grill. "Matt," she begins to chastise irritably, but then her eyes drop down to the couple entwined beneath it.

 

Tyler.

 

With Hayley. Under mistletoe she had _specifically_ vetoed.

 

"Care," she hears Matt say sympathetically from behind her, but she's already peaced the hell out.

 

After watching it play out over and over in her head, she has no desire to see the live show.

.

.

.

Caroline gets absolutely rip-roaring drunk in her empty house.

 

"God bless Damon Salvatore's liquor cabinet," she announces to the silent living room as she finishes her second bottle of pilfered bourbon. Whatever, if Damon doesn't keep an eye on his good alcohol, he doesn't deserve to keep it. His locks weren't even _challenging._

 

"Easy, love," Klaus says and she actually stomps her foot like a toddler.

 

"Do you have like, zero boundaries?" she demands crossly, setting the bottle down loudly. The side cracks. "Seriously, you have creep issues."

 

He's sprawled out on her couch, his feet propped up on the wicker table in front of it and his hands behind his head. He looks way too comfortable—like he owns the place and she's drunk, pissed off, and trying to keep from crying so she throws the empty bottle at him. He barely blinks and catches it easily.

 

"Drowning your sorrows, I see," he comments idly and she says under her breath, "Someone missed their calling as a detective."

 

"I could kill them," Klaus offers offhandedly and she chokes on her drink. It makes her eyes water.

 

"Yeah, _no_ ," she says emphatically, collapsing onto the cushion furthest from him. "Not everything can be solved by, you know, _murder_. God." She leans forward and scoops the remote control off the coffee table. On the TV screen, Jimmy Stewart says to Donna Reed, _I'm shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world…_

 

It hangs between them as Jimmy continues, _Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum..._

 

"My offer still stands, Caroline," Klaus says quietly and she must be way drunk because his stupid voice with its stupid accent sounds very warm, very close and a lot more alluring than usual. _Whatever_ , she thinks sleepily, the alcohol pulling her into a haze. Maybe if she drools on his shoulder he'll get grossed out and finally leave her alone. _I'll build skyscrapers a hundred stories high._

 

"Yeah, well," she mumbles, pulling her legs up into her chest and curling away from him. "My answer does too." She pauses and adds, in case he forgot, "It's _no_."

.

.

. 

Caroline wakes up to a pounding noise in her ears. Her head is resting on something warm—she tries to remember if she managed to crawl into her bed at all. But as she blinks out of her drunken haze of sleep, she realizes her pillow is steadily moving up and down.

 

"Oh _God_ ," she groans, propping up on her elbows and staring down at Klaus is obvious disgust. "You're _still here_." Caroline pushes up off the couch with her elbows and Klaus doesn't even have the decency to act as though the sharp jabs hurt. Her head is absolutely throbbing and that damn _noise_ —

 

"Someone's at your door," Klaus says with a grin, both on his face and in his voice, and she blows her bangs off of her forehead in exasperation because _duh_.

 

"Someone's _observant_ ," Caroline retorts, nearly tripping over the small table next to the couch. The clock on the wall reads five-thirty and seriously, this had better be good because it's freaking early and she'd like a little more sleep before she kicks out the ancient evil currently lounging on her sofa.

 

She swings the door open fully expecting the paper guy to be standing there, waiting to tell her that her next-door neighbor's dog snatched their newspaper for the third time this week—but it's still mostly dark outside and Tyler is leaning against her porch railing.

 

"Hey," he says, and all she can think is there is _no actual way_ this is happening. She pulls the front door shut behind her as fast as she can, because you know, it's not like Klaus has super hearing or anything. _God_ she is so screwed.

 

She isn't quick enough. Tyler's eyes narrow as she pulls on his arm and leads him down her driveway, her bare feet turning red in the snow. "Got company, Care?" he asks acidly, and before she can blink, he yanks his arm away and stops in the middle of her yard. He's glaring at her and before she knows it, she's glaring back.

 

"Hey, mister, I'm not the one kissing people under poisonous bug plants," she snaps back and Tyler snorts.

 

"Oh believe me, Caroline, if we start playing the blame game," he begins angrily and the fight is about to escalate into something neither of them will be able to take back—she's already flinching in expectation.

 

"If I were you, mate," Klaus says in a perfectly amicable voice from over her shoulder, "I'd leave." It's less of a suggestion and more of a threat, especially considering the source; but the accusations and the hurt building up in Tyler's eyes make her throat close before she can tell Klaus to back the hell up and mind his own business.

 

"I guess it is possible to sink lower than Damon Salvatore," he says finally, his voice low and shaking a little. His aim is flawless—a direct hit and Caroline sucks in a sharp breath of air as though he'd hit her.

 

Before she even knows what's happening, Tyler's walking away and neither she nor Klaus moves for several seconds.

 

Silently, without acknowledging anything that was just said, Caroline turns around and goes back into her house, shutting the door quietly behind her.

.

.

.

She stays curled up under her covers for longer than she cares to admit, a bowl of red and green M&Ms cradled against her stomach and old episodes of _No Reservations_ playing on her laptop—all in a useless attempt to drive the look that had been on Tyler's face out of her brain. Like he was disgusted with her.

 

There had been no use in calling Elena, especially considering her friend had left the Grill's Christmas party with Damon; and Bonnie had been sympathetic on the phone but also in the middle of some serious witch doctoring. "I'll come over later," she had promised, but that was hours ago and Caroline's been home alone for a while now. The snow is melting and dripping onto the ground outside of her window in a steady, Chinese water torture rhythm.

 

There's a knock on the door and Caroline flings her covers off, sliding down the hallway in socked feet. "Thank _God_ , Bonnie," she sighs as she opens the door, but because her life is freaking _cursed_ , Klaus is standing there with his hands folded behind his back. He takes in her messy appearance with an unreadable expression on his face and she feels oddly embarrassed at her falling ponytail and old sweatpants.

 

"I'm wallowing," she says defensively, crossing her arms and not moving aside to let him in. "I'm allowed to wallow."

 

He tilts his head at her slightly and says quietly, "I'd like to show you something, Caroline."

 

She wants to scoff—should probably slam the door in his face, if she's being honest—but there's something very un-Klaus-like in his expression and it's not the first time she's seen it there. So she considers him for just a moment before saying, "Hang on for like two seconds."

 

And she grabs her shoes to follow him outside.

.

.

.

"You're a huge dork," Caroline says with near-delight. "A regular _softie._ "

 

It's a house.

 

A shimmering, flickering, Christmas-explosion of a house outside of Mystic Falls that has its own stereo blasting out Trans-Siberian Orchestra and lights that flash in tune to the music. There's an entire blow-up reindeer community on the lawn, a Santa skiing in a snow globe, a nativity scene in one corner and it's all so charmingly tacky that she giggles.

 

"Slander," Klaus says and she doesn't even care that he's more entertained by her reaction than by the grand spectacle in front of them.

 

"How'd you even find this place?" she wants to know, beaming as the mechanical Santa on the roof starts to wave and "A Mad Russian's Christmas" kicks up on the speakers. When he doesn't answer immediately, Caroline glances over at him curiously. A tiny smile is playing at his mouth and she doesn't even care that he might be evil incarnate because _look_ at this house.

 

"I bet," she says, turning back to the house and watching as lights blink red and green and blue, "that your heart's grown three sizes since we've been standing here." She pauses and adds without any bite to her tone, "Thus confirming its actual existence."

 

He gives a quiet laugh that she recognizes from the night of his family's ball and Caroline thinks that maybe this is less of Klaus the evil hybrid and more of Niklaus who had once been human.

 

She doesn't look over at him again, but when he slides his fingers through hers, she lets him.

.

.

.

**end.**

 


End file.
